winryweiss: (Default)
Fill for kinkmeme's Ghost Story prompt, as well as for much newer Halloween prompt.

Story so far : Professor Calculus was invited to England by his old colleague, younger brother of Lord of Moonshire, and he took Captain, Tintin and Snowy along. The Manor feels slightly strange (especially to Snowy and Captain), but nothing unusual happened at first. Yet, the second night of their visit was full of unpleasant hair-rising surprises. Which led into Captain spending the rest of night in Tintin's bed. In all chastity! Next day, when household was captured in Captain's storytelling, Tintin went to investigate for source of strange night noises and ended up trapped in hostile room. Meanwhile, Professor and Snowy encounter a strange translucent girl.

Warnings : Tintin/Haddock established relationship. Spooky stuffs. Mild fluff.

part one part two part three this part part five part six [next parts pending]


The Mystery of Moonshire Manor (part 4)


Cuthbert shivers and rubs his hands together, breathing on them to warm them up. “It is exceptionally cold here.” He murmurs to himself.
Snowy whines.
Cuthbert looks at him and chuckles, amused by the astonished expression of the white dog. He turns to see what caught Snowy’s attention.

There is always way out.
Tintin breathes out deeply.
There is always way out.
Tintin breathes in deeply.
Always some way out.
And if door cannot be opened … Well, one has to use alternate opening.
Tintin breathes out and in and out and in, calming himself, preparing himself for the inevitable.
His way out is right in front of him.
So close yet so far away.
He will need to pass between bed and closet. And whatever is hiding there.
He needs to be swift. He must make it.
One try.
He presses himself to the hard wood of door, holding his breath, body tense with adrenaline.
He can make it.
Tintin rebounds from door and takes of like a bullet towards window.

“Oh. Hello there, sweetie.” Professor hasn’t noticed that girl until now.
She tilts her head and looks at him quizzically.
“Are you all right? You are terribly pale.”
She is see-through! Snowy yaps at him. Don’t you see it?
“Wait.” Cuthbert rummages though his pockets. “I think I have somewhere …”
By cat, Professor, you are supposed to be deaf not blind! Snowy tugs at Cuthbert’s trousers.
“Come on, boy. Wait a moment. Ha!” Professor takes out small, alluringly smelling thing. “Here, little lady. Take this.” He takes her hands and places it into her palms. “Ginger candy. It’s not very sweet, but it’s great when you catch a cold.” He smiles at her with the expression of kind caring uncle.
The girl’s face lights up with beautiful smile. She whispers “thank you”, her voice nothing more than rustling of wind between rose bushes. She looks at Snowy with gentle yet somehow sad eyes, and he feels great affection towards her, desire to lick her face to banish the sadness away. His tail starts wagging inadvertently and he yaps at her.
She points her hand in the direction of forest behind arbour. “Hideout.” She whispers, and when Cuthbert and Snowy turns back at her, there is not a single trace of her left.

Ten steps.
Ten long steps.
It is not big distance.
More like eight jumps.
At speed he never thought possible. Crumbs, he hadn’t moved so quick ever, not even at times when he pursued criminals! Very likely he overthrown world record in short distance run. Nothing more motivating than own life at stake.
Tintin reaches the window and jerks himself out of it in one fluid motion. He spins around, laying his legs on decorative cornice and slamming the window shut, his elbow colliding violently with hard window frame. He is breathless, his heart beating frantically while his eyes scrutinize the room.
Completely empty room.
The cornice can’t support his weight and falls apart under his feet.
He feels dread rising through his veins as his hands slip and he falls down wordlessly.

Today must be his lucky day.
Roger Dawnson, distant cousin of Lord of Moonshire, smiles in his sleeve. That kind of happy contented smile which didn’t appeared on his face for months.
Really, who could have guessed that the guaranteed favorite of steeplechase will collapse in the middle of that frigging horse race? Roger betted so much money on that stupid horse victory. So his only opinion was to pay all his creditors and then pay a visit to his wealthy cousins in infinitesimal hope that they won’t kick him out but take pity on him and perhaps, perhaps, lend him some money.
But staying in family estate is unsettling. The creepiness crawls on one’s brain. He can hear strange, unexplainable noises, not the usual kind of old house sounds, and he swears he is sometimes seeing things. Like somebody standing at the top of staircase, when everybody is outside or doing house chores. And when he looks thoroughly, there is no one. Or the strange impression that there is one door more in the hallway leading to servants quarters. Or when he catches a glimpse of movement with the corner of his eyes in empty room. It is astonishing that, with all those tall stories about Moonshire curse and ghosts, only one member of his family ended up in asylum.
Yet, with arrival of Ackerley’s guests, Lady Luck smiled at him again. Captain storytelling is perfect cover. No one will notice him, hell, even he had hard time to tear himself away from those interesting tales. But he cannot afford such opportunity slip through his fingers. No, he can’t. He shifts the portrait of his great grandfather and grins at the build in strongbox in panelling beneath. Of course he knows the combination. Date of Diamond Jubilee, so painfully unoriginal. He sniggers.
Today is his lucky day.
Right behind him resound a disgusted snort.

Sky has steel gray colour and is almost invisible through heavy clouds. It is not raining, but you can smell water in air with every inhale you make. And it is cold, piercing chilly, breath precipitate in crispy puffs, top of nose and fingertips goes numb if you stay outside for too long.
But Tintin doesn’t care the slightest.
He’s alive.
He’s frigging alive!
He exhales with relief, still shaken after his fall. He landed in huuuge pile of leaves which cushioned the impact. Colourful leaves scattered everywhere, some of them were slowly drifting back down to ground. It looked pretty. So he just lay there, among raked leaves. Because he want to observe nature, of course. Not because he is not sure whether he can move.
An elderly man, evidently gardener, enters his field of vision. “Sir?”
“Yes?” Tintin squeaks. With cough he recollects his composure. “What can I do for you?”
Gardener rises his left eyebrow, in gesture very similar to Nestor’s expression when Professor blows up yet another thing. “Well, sir.” He says after a while of contemplating. “I’d appreciate if you wait a little before jumping again. I need to rake bigger heap.”

“Might yer tell me where did yer disappeared?” Captain asked the bathroom door. He was sitting on bed in Tintin’s given room, still fully clothed despite the late hour.
“Uhm.” Tintin abandoned observing his sore elbow. “Into bathroom?”
“Yer know that’s not what I meant.”
Tintin sighed. Sometimes, Archie can be worse than him. Persistent and stubborn. He closed himself in the bathroom shortly after they retired to night’s rest to examine any possible injuries from his escape from Death acrobatics. He hit his elbow, and pretty painfully, during his hastened leave through window. He will have majestic bruise which his caring and overprotective lover simply wouldn’t miss.
“And will you be so kind to tell me exactly what you meant.” He retorts playfully, buttoning his pajama top.
Nothing good come from hiding truth from Archibald Haddock. Tintin was bound to tell him, the sooner the better. But he won’t miss the ritual of questions and hints, unfinished sentences, prevaricating and awkwardly changed topics.
It is better than foreplay.
“Apart from the hardly believable fact that I’m talking with door?”
Tintin opened said door with chuckle and leaned on doorframe. “I believe you’ve talked with much more interesting … objects.”
“Times when I was drunk do not count.”
The ginger smacked his lips. “You weren’t drunk when you had that intriguing debate with fridge.”
“I didn’t noticed that Nestor left. And yer trying to change subject.”
“Yes. Where is Snowy?”
“With Cuthbert. What are you hiding?”
“Just few things. What’s the time?”
“Ten past eleven. Are those things dangerous?”
“Well … you know me. You didn’t even look at your watch.”
“I looked before.”
“Why are you still dressed?”
“Dd… I didn’t expected such question.” Captain blushed slightly.
Tintin’s lips tugged into smile. “So I won?”
“Deck, never!” Archibald’s brow furrowed with concentration. After few seconds he came up with sufficient retort. “Since I have my night clothes in my room. Wh…”
“Archibald.” Using Captain’s name to emphasize his decision, the ginger paced to his beloved and laid his hands on the older man’s shoulders. “You are not going to enter that room ever again.”
Captain looked blunt for short while, but then his face lighted up with sudden insight. “Tini, did you…?”
Loud and terrified woman’s scream reverberated thorough Moonshire Manor.

author's notes
Cliffy again. ^^ But this time not so nerving. Right?
x There is an old Czech saying "When you cannot use door, use window instead.". Sometimes, you just need to be creative.
x Although child ghosts are one of the most creepiest paranornal things, in most stories they are portrayed as lonely lost souls without evil intentions.
x Actually I'm keen on ginger bonbons. And tea flavoured ones as well.
x I'm not sure whether "cornice" is the right word for which I have on mind, perhaps "moulding" would be better. You know, those decorative thingy on house facade. Tintin actually used one sort of those in Chicago to surprise gangster. You surely remember that scene.
x OK, I know that introducing Roger right before he gets *censored*, is outright breaking of msgre. Knox decalogue of good detective story. But since this is a ghost story, I can afford this.
x I love Tintin's and Archibald's banters.
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